


It's Not A Job Where You Need Words

by felinedetached



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Mute Dirk Strider, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 05:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10960338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felinedetached/pseuds/felinedetached
Summary: You feel the pole under your hands, cold, unyielding. It will warm up soon enough. You pull yourself up, flip upside down, and stare out over the crowd. They are your income, how you pay for food and rent. They are your everything. Everything other than the boy with green eyes and glasses, the boy standing at the counter serving drinks.In which Dirk Strider is a stripper working at the Phantom, and Jake English is an oblivious bartender.





	It's Not A Job Where You Need Words

You feel the pole under your hands, cold, unyielding. It will warm up soon enough. You pull yourself up, flip upside down, and stare out over the crowd. They are your income, how you pay for food and rent. They are your everything. Everything other than the boy with green eyes and glasses, the boy standing at the counter serving drinks. You push it out of your mind to focus on your job, the one job that would hire you, and the one job you never need to say a word. That job is to be as sensual as possible as you spin around the pole.

 

You spin, your knee folded over the pole, holding you in place. Your core muscles ache as you use them to hold yourself up, above the crowd that  _ aches _ to give you money. You slide back down and let them, rolling your body back against the metal as sensually as possible. People don't normally pay to see a dude pole dance, so you’re not surprised that there's a much bigger crowd by Roxy. She's an amazing stripper. You slide back up the pole, spin at the top, your legs kicking out over those who reach up to try touch. The rules at this place are simple though - no contact with the strippers, unless you pay for a lapdance. Speaking of, a guy in the corner seems to be interested, and you know where you'll probably go after this. You're never into it. Maybe if Jake offered...  but you'd lapdance for free if he asked. You'd do anything for him if he asked, and all he'd have to do is bat those pretty lashes, look at you with those green, green eyes. Oops, you got distracted again. 

 

You drop down to the floor, onto your hands and knees, emulating the costume you've got on for tonight's theme - pretty kitty. The ears on the headband are fine, but the tail attached to your underwear is one of the most annoying things you've had to deal with whilst in this club. Meulin and Porrim are good owners, even if their costumes are mildly irritating - their rules are clear cut, and they've got enforcers too. Meulin's sister's best friend is one of them. To be honest, Equius is kinda hot, and you wouldn't mind if he asked. You’d always prefer Jake though.

 

You're getting off track again, you need to focus on the music and dance. It's upbeat - perfect for lots of changes, spins turning quickly into a drop and then sliding back up the pole into another spin, using all the things you were taught when Roxy dragged you to lessons. You find it's not long before the dance is over, and you're ready to leave. Or you would be, but the cute bartender is calling you over.

 

"Hey, Dirk!" he says, smiling, and you smile back, your hands coming up to sign your response.

 

_ Hey, Jake. How are you? _

 

"Good, and how are you old chap?" he asks, and your mood simultaneously rises and plummets. He's talking to you, he cares about you and wants to know how you're doing, and that's amazing, but he considers you a friend. You'd be perfectly happy being his friend, in fact, you're ecstatic that you're his friend, but there will always be a part of you that want more, more, more. A relationship, one where you can love him and know that you're loved in return. A relationship where you can accept each other and trust each other.

 

You'll never get it.

 

You leave, signing goodbye, and head down the street. It's cliche, raining, and you're cold and tired and lovesick, and you want to go home and cuddle up with your horse plushie and wait for Roxy to come home and flop down next to you, ask you about your day, ask you about what happened with Jake, and run her fingers through your hair as you sign your replies.

 

You'd love that, maybe. Not as much as you'd love having Jake run his fingers through your hair, and down your back, and -    
  
"Hey." You turn. It's the guy who was eying you whilst you dance.

 

_ Shift's over _ , you sign back,  _ I'm not working anymore. Don’t hassle me. _ You don't want to deal with this kind of shitty dirtbag right now. He's probably the kind of person who thinks strippers are there for his own personal pleasure  _ 24/7 _ . The kind of person who thinks people like you are strippers because they like whoring themselves out to the nearest douchebag. The kind of guy who’d be surprised at you signing. After all, what kind of strip club would hire a mute employee? One who takes care of their own, and can make sure that if you need help you get it - not that you need it, and they know that too. You'd bitch-slap anyone who even tried to do anything to you.

 

"Oh, you can't speak, freak?" he sneers, and you frown. You don't need to spend any time on this douche, and you're not going to. You turn around, and when you feel the hand on your arm you bring the other one up to slap him. He drops your arm. You turn and stalk away, catching the bus home (oh shit you're still wearing the cat ear headband) and flop down into a pile of blankets in front of the tv. Your Rainbow Dash plush sits next to you, and you spend the next three hours watching ironically shitty movies. What another kind would you watch?

 

Who are you kidding, you sat watching My Little Pony and crying. You forgot to bring a tissue box down with you, so you sniff and attempt to ignore it, because you are not moving from this pile. It's surprisingly comfortable. You love how the blankets feel against your skin, which currently feels too sensitive to actually be connected to your nerves.

 

When Roxy comes home, you're a mess, and you hate it. But she flops down next to you, hands you a tissue box and begins to run her fingers through your hair. It's perfect, a brilliant night, but not the night you were looking for. not the night you were hoping for. It's the night you wanted as you left the bar, but it will never be the one night you long for will all your being. A night in with the cute bartender from your work.

 

She's not the right person and she knows it, but she's your best friend and you’re hers, and it's your job to deal with her heartbreak, just as it is hers to deal with yours.

  
You love Roxy Lalonde, but not in the same way that you love Jake English, a boy who will never love you back.

**Author's Note:**

> Go yell at me on tumblr @felinedetached


End file.
